


a good (eighth) impression

by deanniker



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Artist Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Casual Sex, Firefighter Lykon, M/M, Meet-Awkwards, Nurse Nicky, and a little too much time spent at the farmers market, that turns into feelings, the mortifying ideal of discovering you want to date your best friends ex-boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:21:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29552754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanniker/pseuds/deanniker
Summary: Over the next few months, Joe runs into Nicky every so often at the farmer’s market. Some weekends Nicky doesn’t make it, because of his work schedule - Joe doesn’t understand it because he doesn’t ask, though he does start to recognize when one of those missing weekends is coming up because Nicky will stock up on things with longer shelf-life. When they do run into each other, they make small talk and move through the stalls together.Joe doesn’t mention it to Lykon when he stops by, because it is kind of weird, that Lykon’s ex-boyfriend texts Joe things like -If you’re here, the apples look particularly good this weekandthank you for that recipe, I did not know what I was going to do with that much couscousOr,Joe wouldn't usually consider starting anything with his best friend's ex, but as long as they keep it casual, it shouldn't be weird... right?
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Lykon & Nicky | Nicolo di Genova
Comments: 64
Kudos: 269
Collections: The Old Guard Big Bang





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Look Ma, I did a Big Bang!
> 
> Many thanks to the moderators for organizing this massive event, it's been quite a ride.
> 
> My artist [rhubarbdreams](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com/), on top of writing a big bang of their own (!) put together a wonderful fan mix for this! And beautiful cover art! _And_ a beautiful moodboard! I'm sobbing.

Joe knows he should hurry, but he’s two hours late already and it’s a nice night. Stuffing his hands into his pockets and enjoying his stroll isn’t going to make this worse.

He got into a groove with his line work and under normal circumstances he wouldn’t have come out at all, because Friday nights at Andy’s are going to happen every Friday night until the end of time. But Lykon really wanted to introduce everyone to his latest flame and made Joe promise to be there. Joe has avoided looking at his phone since he blinked and was suddenly shocked into awareness of how much time had passed since he last looked up. He’s sure to have an angry mess to sort through. 

When he finally gets to Andy’s he goes to let himself in because he knows she’ll have left it unlocked, but the door swings open just as Joe is reaching for the handle, and his momentum carries him inside, awkwardly tripping over his feet and stumbling into the man who pulled it open. 

Joe manages to get his feet back under him before toppling them both over, helped by the man’s hands steadying him at the elbows. 

“Shit, sorry,” Joe says, putting some distance between them.

“Not at all,” the stranger says. It’s not exactly the right response. That, coupled with a thick Italian accent and the fact that he’s in Andy’s foyer makes Joe clear his throat and stretch out his hand. “Sorry again,” he says. “I’m Joe. You must be Nicky.”

“Yes,” Nicky says, taking his hand. His grip manages to be both firm and gentle. Joe takes a moment to look over him properly, now that he’s not falling all over himself. Unremarkable clothes, sensible shoes - not Lykon’s usual glamorous type. His face is… well, he’s not ugly. It’s the kind of face that makes you take a second look, to try to make sense of all the disparate parts - deepset, heavy-lidded eyes, a nose that juts out, a mole on his right cheek. It’s an interesting face, but he’s not what Joe pictured, considering that Lykon likes referring to him as his _spicy Italian sausage_. “You’re the artist,” Nicky adds, which jolts Joe out of his rude musings. 

He clears his throat. “Not really, no. I’m in sales.”

Nicky frowns. “Lykon showed me your webcomic. Red Water in al-Quds? I’m not an artist myself, of course, but I certainly would think that you could call yourself one. The illustrations were quite beautiful.”

Joe shuffles his feet, not quite sure how to handle such an earnest compliment in person. He’s never had this experience before - the praise of family and friends doesn’t count. He thinks he might be blushing. “You read it?” he asks. 

Nicky hums and shakes his head. “I haven’t had the time, I only skimmed,” he says. “Also, I thought it looked a bit…” Joe’s blush fades and his hackles rise. A bit what? Angry? One-sided? Extremist? “...depressing,” Nicky finishes. 

“The sack of al-Quds was depressing,” Joe snaps. “It was a fucking massacre.”

“Of, of course,” Nicky says quickly. His eyes dart away for a moment. “I only meant I… haven’t found the time to commit myself to reading something like that.”

Joe takes a deep breath and reminds himself that this stranger is under no obligation to read his work just because he is maybe kind of Lykon’s boyfriend, and that Lykon would not introduce them all to his newest squeeze if there was even the faintest hint that said squeeze might be a horrible bigot, and that Joe should really not be leaping down his throat for recognizing something in his work that Joe knows is an issue. “No, you’re right,” Joe says. “It is depressing.”

Nicky’s mouth tilts up awkwardly. He clears his throat. “I don’t mean to rush out on you, but I was on my way out,” he says. “Night shift.”

“That’s right, Lykon said you guys met at the hospital. You’re a doctor?”

“A nurse,” Nicky corrects. “Critical care.”

“Sounds important.”

Nicky’s smile widens into something a little more genuine. “Well, it is important that I arrive on time.” He holds out his hand again. “It was nice to meet you, Joe. I’m sure I will see you again.”

“Yeah,” Joe says, though he doubts it. Lykon cycles through partners quickly - the way he loves is big and bright, but it doesn’t tend to last very long. He’s not blind to it, and he doesn’t introduce them to anyone unless he thinks they could all be friends down the line - it hasn’t always worked, but it did bring them Nile. Joe just doesn’t see it here. Everyone in their group had been drawn to Nile's warmth and drive immediately - Joe had made plans with her the very first night Lykon brought her around. Nicky just seems unremarkable.

Nicky gives him another polite smile and slips out the door. 

Joe toes off his shoes and heads upstairs. Everyone’s in the living room except for Nile, who didn’t mind taking a Friday night off to let Lykon’s new boyfriend meet their cadre of immigrant queers without an ex rattling around in there too. 

“Look who finally turned up,” Booker says. 

Joe is greeted by a chorus of boos. Booker smirks, and Joe sticks his tongue out at him. “You just missed Nicky,” Lykon says, throwing an exaggerated pout in his direction. “After you promised! Joe, I’m wounded.”

“ _Actually_ , I bumped into him downstairs,” Joe says, claiming the last remaining armchair.

“Oh?” Lykon says. “What did you think of him?”

“I don’t know, we barely spoke,” Joe admits. When Lykon frowns at his response, Joe tacks on: “he seems nice?”

Lykon perks up. “He _is_ nice. Sweet. He stops by the station to bring me fancy coffee sometimes. _Nile_ never did that.” 

“Nile was studying for the bar when you were dating, and if she hears you say that she’ll prosecute you for defamation of character,” Andy warns him.

“Nile is a public defender,” Lykon says. 

“She’ll find a way,” Andy says. 

Joe settles back into his armchair, and tries not to regret having left home.

* * *

Nicky and Lykon are still together one month down the line, when Nile uses Booker’s backyard to host her annual fourth of July picnic. Even Nile doesn’t care much about the holiday, but it always makes her miss her family, so they gather together for her. 

Joe’s manning the grill when Lykon arrives with Nicky, because they haven’t let Booker near a hot grill after a few beers since their camping trip two years ago, and Nile and Andy are not interested in subverting a gender role if they have to sweat over an open flame in July to do it. 

Lykon and Nicky wander over to say hi. “Nice to see you again,” Joe says to Nicky, because Joe isn’t an asshole, and Nicky didn’t blink at being introduced to Nile, even though Lykon had done it by picking Nile up and spinning her around, gushing about her beauty and wit and wisdom.

“And you,” Nicky says. 

Beside him, Lykon twitches, eyeing the cones that Booker is beginning to set up for their football game. “Go on,” Nicky says, smiling at him. 

“Be right back,” Lykon promises, leaning in for a kiss that is dirtier than necessary - but it’s not like Joe hasn’t seen worse. Then he’s off, hollering at Booker for making the goals too small. Which leaves Joe with a whole lot of sizzling meat and a very flushed and dazed looking Nicky.

“Do you play?” Joe asks, because he doesn’t like to let things get awkward. 

Nicky shakes his head and clears his throat. “Not since I was a child.”

“A child in Italy?” Joe shakes his head. “You’ll probably wipe the floor with us.”

Nicky hums, and watches Lykon steal the cones from Booker and sprint off in the other direction. Joe turns his attention back to the grill. 

“I…” Nicky begins, haltingly. “I wanted to apologize.”

Joe looks up, squinting at him. His expression is very sincere. Too bad Joe has no idea what he’s talking about. “Huh?”

“For what I said to you about your work,” Nicky says. “You didn’t ask for feedback, and it wasn’t appropriate for me to offer criticism.”

“Oh,” Joe says. And then: “Thank you. For apologizing,”

Nicky smiles at him awkwardly, like he sees the spaces in Joe’s response that hint at the hurt, but he still looks sincere. He does seem sweet. 

It’s not as though Lykon only dates assholes, but Joe has seen enough of his partners come and go to understand that it takes a lot to hold Lykon’s attention, and just being nice isn’t enough. Then again, he’s lasted this long, so he must be doing something right. And Lykon's pet name for him is still _spicy Italian sausage_ , despite all their begging and pleading. Joe realizes, with a kind of lazy horror, that the sex must be spectacular.

“Nicky!” Lykon shouts, having won his argument with Booker by running circles around him with the cones until Booker gave up. “Come here, you gorgeous man, and let me see your ball handling! Something tells me you will be very skilled indeed!”

“Madre di Dio,” Nicky mutters, but there’s a bitten back smile on his face and a pleased flush to his cheeks. “Excuse me,” he says to Joe, and heads off the porch down to Lykon. 

Joe was right - Nicky does wipe the floor with them in football. Nile usually sits this out so they put her on the team with Lykon and Nicky, but she doesn’t have to do much. Lykon is not especially skilled, but he is fast enough that neither Andy or Booker can keep up with him on their own, and Nicky tears through Joe’s lone defense like it’s not even there. The only reason it doesn’t turn into a depressingly lopsided score is that Andy goes down with a twisted knee only half an hour in - they all break while Nicky takes her inside to get her some ice and take a look at it, with the understanding that they’re just going to stop early. 

Nicky comes back out with Andy’s arm slung over his shoulder and tries to tell her that she needs to go to a doctor if she notices any bruising. Andy crosses her arms and ignores him with a sour face, but luckily Nicky lets Lykon tug him away before he says something that really pisses her off. Lykon pretends to want Nicky to try to play keep-away with the ball, but after a few half-hearted kicks just steps closer to make out with him.

Everyone starts to heckle them, and Nicky turns his head away from the kiss, grinning sheepishly, but he doesn’t step away, hands still on Lykon’s hips. They’re an attractive pair, Joe concedes, and sweet or no, Nicky clearly likes what he’s getting out of this. Lykon is upfront about what he wants - Nicky has to know what he can expect.

* * *

One of Joe’s clients sees his computer background while Joe is sharing his screen, and asks him about it and his art while Joe switches between programs. Joe doesn’t really think much of it, but a few days after the sale goes through he gets a message from the client's brother, asking him if he’d have time to do some freelance work for his comics company.

At first Joe thinks it’s a joke, but after a couple of phone conversations Joe has to concede that this is for real, and he actually does have some actual paying work as an artist, and he might have some real connections now. He tells Booker in confidence, but within a few hours he gets a string of congratulatory texts from every one of his friends, and Booker shows up at his door to drag him to Joe’s favorite late night spot to celebrate. 

Joe glares at Booker when he arrives to find everyone there, but his friend just shrugs and says, “If you really wanted to keep this a secret, you wouldn’t have told _me.”_

That’s fair, but Joe still makes him pay for the food.

They’ve tried three different appetizers and Joe is contemplating a fourth when Lykon’s attention catches on someone by the bar. He darts off and chats with them, but makes his way back to them quickly.

“Struck out,” he says, shrugging. “Wasn’t comfortable with the idea of sleeping with someone in an open relationship. Either that or I’m losing my charm.”

Andy snorts. “What charm?”

Lykon bares his teeth at her playfully and steals her drink.

“I didn’t think Nicky seemed like the type to be cool with that,” Nile says. Joe’s glad he’s not the only one who’s been wondering.

Lykon shrugs. “I wasn’t sure either, and it took him a while to decide when I suggested it, but he seemed to mean it when he said it was alright. To be honest, I was relieved. I do like him very much, but life is short and our schedules are…” he trails off, shaking his head. 

They all hum understandingly. Lykon misses a lot of their get togethers - that he managed to make this one is pure luck. Being a firefighter isn’t easy, and adding a nurse’s schedule on top of that must make it difficult to find time for one another.

“But,” Lykon says, brightening a little. “His passion for me has not faded since we opened things up.”

Nile makes gagging noises into her drink. Andy balls up her napkin and throws it in Lykon’s face. “Passion, really, Lykon?” she asks.

“Yes, _passion_ ,” Lykon grins, drawing the word out. “You have not been so lucky to benefit from that man’s stamina. He is on his feet all day. When he is well rested and we have the time…”

Booker groans. “Please, spare us,” he says. “If I remember correctly, we came out to congratulate Joe? Not listen to a play by play of your apparently very healthy sex life.”

“Of course,” Lykon says, shooting an apologetic look at Joe, who was honestly happy to have the focus off of him for a little while. It’s not that he isn’t not excited, but he knows better than anyone that this is no guarantee of actual work. The only thing he can be sure of coming from this is a side gig every once in a while, and congratulatory drinks aren’t helping him keep that in perspective.

* * *

Joe’s still listed as Lykon’s emergency contact in October, when Lykon gets hurt on the job. He wishes this wasn’t such a common occurrence, that Joe doesn’t have to be familiar with the song and dance it takes to find his hospital room. When he finally tracks down the right one, he hears Nicky’s voice coming through the open door.

“...minor smoke inhalation is never just minor,” Nicky is saying. “But otherwise it doesn’t sound too serious.”

“I’ll be fine,” Lykon says.

“You can stay with me while you recover,” Nicky says, and Joe winces. “That way I can -”

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” Lykon snaps. He gets this way, lashes out when he’s injured or embarrassed. He always has.

After a few moments, Joe hears Lykon sigh. “I’m sorry, Nicky,” he says. “I know you mean well. But you know I like my space.”

“I know, I know,” Nicky murmurs. “I just -”

Joe backtracks to the elevators and waits a few minutes before making his way back to the room. He passes Nicky in the hallway. “Oh,” Nicky says. “Hello, Joe. Lykon is two doors down, on your left. He’s doing fine.”

He’s in a set of pale green scrubs, nearly the same color as his eyes. Under the overhead lights he’s washed out completely - he looks exhausted. “Are you still working?” Joe asks.

Nicky nods. “Just for a couple hours. I’ll think they’ll discharge Lykon soon. I’ll go over to check on him after, if you bring him back to his apartment.”

“Sounds good.” Nicky nods and starts to head down the hallway. “Hey, hang in there, okay?” Joe calls after him. “I know it’s tough seeing him like this.”

Nicky looks back at him. “Thank you, Joe,” he says quietly, and disappears around a corner. 

* * *

Once Lykon recovers, he gets a few weeks off - the perks of being a public servant injured in the line of duty. He flies down to Peru to hike Machu Picchu, and when he gets back they all gather in a bar to welcome him home. Joe’s headed to the bathroom and bumps into Nicky when he arrives. “Ah, Joe,” Nicky says. “Where -”

He goes very quiet, and very still. Joe doesn’t need to look to know what he’s seeing, because Joe had been rolling his eyes as he stood next to Lykon a few minutes ago, when he’d turned to the person next to him and said, “I’m waiting for my boyfriend to get here, would you mind flirting with me to pass the time?” Instead, he gets a very close look at Nicky’s face, as it flashes between confusion and hurt and eventually lands on anger.

“Hey,” Joe says, but Nicky pushes past him.

Something in Joe makes him turn around to watch what happens, though he knows he won’t enjoy it. Nicky walks up to Lykon, who beams when he sees him and turns towards him, leaning in for a kiss. Nicky pushes him back, gesticulating, and Joe sees Lykon’s shoulders pull back. He says something back, and Nicky snaps out something else, and Lykon’s face hardens and he pushes Nicky away firmly enough that he stumbles back a few feet. 

Nicky seems stunned. Andy and Booker suddenly emerge from the crowd, flanking Lykon and glaring Nicky down like private security. Nicky reaches out, but pulls his hand back when Lykon says something to him, and turns his back. Booker follows that up with something else, and whatever it was makes Nicky stumble away, towards the back of the bar. 

By the time Joe gets back from the bathroom Nile has also reappeared, congregating around Lykon, who’s trying very hard to act like he isn’t upset. “Fuck him,” Lykon says, running a hand down his face. To the woman he was flirting with, he says, “I am so sorry, I didn't mean to involve you in that. Please let me buy your next drink as an apology.”

“It’s really not a big deal, but thanks,” she says. “And sorry about - all that, I guess.”

“Let’s try to get a booth,” Andy says, knowing better than to suggest calling it a night or trying to find a different bar, which would just make Lykon want to stay more out of stubbornness. 

They get lucky - it’s still pretty early, and one of the booths ends up free as the group of frat boys using it leave, presumably to bar hop. Now that they’re all here, Lykon tells them about his trip, pulls open his photos and shows them pictures of ruins and llamas.

Once everyone starts to get a little tipsy, Joe steps out in search of fresh air. He doesn’t usually mind being the only sober person in a bar, especially when he’s out with his friends, but sometimes the way everyone gets sloppy and loud will get to be too much. This bar has an outdoor area, set up with benches and strange outdoor american games involving beanbags and horseshoes. Joe wrinkles his nose in bewilderment, but the people using them seem happy enough.

“Oh no,” someone moans, and Joe turns around to see Nicky trying very hard to shrink into the wall behind him. 

“What are you still doing here?” Joe blurts.

Nicky is still trying to back away from him, even though he’s already as far into a corner as it’s possible for a man to be, and halfway behind a potted plant. He clutches his drink, which looks horrifically like a long island iced tea to his chest. He’s crying a little, and has been for a while, judging by how red his eyes are. Joe doesn’t feel much sympathy toward him at the moment, but he wouldn’t have wanted that to be the first thing he saw his boyfriend doing after three weeks apart either, so he bites back on his first impulse to say something cutting. 

It’s a little creepy, Nicky staying in the same bar as them to drown his sorrows, but he didn’t show up at their table, and it’s plain from the way that his frightened eyes keep darting between Joe and the door behind him that he isn’t trying to make this evening worse for Lykon. “You okay?” Joe finds himself asking. 

“M’fine,” Nicky slurs, offering him a watery smile that just makes him look more unhappy. “S’not me, you - you’re not _my_ friend.”

Joe takes the glass away from him, and when he sniffs it it makes his eyes water. “You should go home,” he says gently.

Nicky nods. He takes a few steps, and staggers into Joe. “M’fine,” he says again, and promptly leans over and vomits onto the floor next to Joe’s shoes. “Oh,” he says, “Oh no, Joe, I’m sorry.”

Joe rolls his eyes up to the sky and slings Nicky’s arm over his shoulder. “Come on,” he says. Nicky lets himself be led out of the bar. They don’t bump into Lykon or any of the others, which is a relief.

“Joe, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he keeps saying, as Joe pulls his wallet out to find his address to call him a rideshare. When the driver shows up he takes one look at Nicky puking his guts up into the gutter and refuses to take him. Joe can’t argue with that, so he pulls Nicky back to his feet and starts walking him back to his apartment. It isn’t too far, but it is cold, and Nicky starts to sober up during it. Well, he goes quiet instead of mumbling apologies. Joe ducks inside a convenience store to grab him a bottle of water, now that it seems like he’ll be able to keep it down, but when he gets out Nicky is typing something into his phone. 

Joe wrestles the phone away from him and shoves the water into his hands. Nicky hadn’t gotten very far - the text to Lykon is a jumbled mess: **sssoru lyjno deeserve.** Joe deletes it. 

Nicky drinks the water, and by the time Joe gets him into the elevator and into his apartment, it’s clear that he actually has sobered up this time. Nicky heads straight to his fridge and pulls out a carton of orange juice, guzzling a bunch of it down. He’s still a little unsteady on his feet, but he takes himself to the bathroom, and when he flops down on his bed he pulls himself up into a safe position for sleeping while drunk, one leg drawn up, head to the side. Joe gets him another glass of water and brings the trashcan from the bathroom to Nicky’s bed. He puts Nicky’s phone on the table next to him. 

“You are...” Nicky breathes, blinking up at him, still a little glassy eyed. “A kind person.”

Joe pats his cheek, and lets himself out.

Three days later he gets a box of cupcakes delivered to his work, with a note inside that reads:

Joe,

I hope you don’t find this too invasive. Lykon had mentioned where you worked and I wanted to thank you for getting me home safely. I also think I remember throwing up on your shoes, though I hope not, for my pride. Here is my number: 039-555-1069. Please let me know if I can replace anything for you.

Thank you again,

Nicky

It’s a thoughtful gesture, especially considering that it’s a miracle Nicky remembers anything at all from that night. Joe did end up tossing the sneakers but there was already a hole in the sole so he’s willing to let that part of it slide. He drops the cupcakes off in the office kitchen and keeps the note with the vague idea of seeing if Nicky could give him some money for the rideshare that ended up being more expensive than Joe had planned for. 

In the afternoon Joe uses the back of the note to jot down a few things while on a call, and on the bus home he realizes that he threw it away without saving Nicky’s number. He makes a mental note to fish it out of the recycling the next day, and immediately forgets about it completely.


	2. this might as well happen

This is the second signing where one of his friends doesn’t make an appearance, and Joe hates it. 

He knows that he can’t expect them to come to every signing, even the local ones. And he wasn’t expecting it to matter, but he got used to them showing up. Andy showed her face three times, and stuck around for far longer than Joe expected her to. Booker stopped in for a minute at a handful of places. Lykon showed up twice, pulling his hoodie down over his face and circling through the line again and again, trying on different voices. Nile could only make it once but she hung around in a corner and stayed for the entire thing, only popping out to pick him and Quỳnh up coffees when she noticed Joe getting jittery. 

He misses the tiny snatches of familiarity. Tonight has been just one endless string of people saying mostly the same things and asking mostly the same questions. They love the novel, and are looking forward to seeing what he does next. Which is exciting, and flattering, and exhausting. 

He lingers in the stacks coming back from the bathroom, grateful for the breather. The crowd is starting to thin, so how doesn’t feel too bad about leaving Quỳnh to deal with them on her own. 

“Hello, Joe,” a voice says. 

“Huh?” Joe asks, squinting at the owner of the voice. He made sure his name on the cover was Yusuf, and that’s what people have been calling him all night. “Do I know you?”

“Ah…” The man trails off, looking caught out and uncomfortable.

It’s the awkward smile that jogs his memory. “Nicky!” He blurts. “Nicky, hi, sorry. It’s been a bit of a night.”

“I’m sure,” Nicky says. “I didn’t mean to intrude, I was just on my way home from work when I saw you, and I thought I would offer my congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Joe says. “Thanks.” He gets stuck there.

“Who’s your friend?” Quỳnh asks, popping up next to Joe. She’s handling this much better than Joe is, doesn’t seem phased by the crowds at all. She’s on her third book, so maybe after two more Joe will get used to this kind of thing.

“Uh, this is Nicky,” Joe says. “He’s, uh -”

“We knew each other in passing a few years ago,” Nicky offers smoothly, extending his hand. “You’re the writer, correct? Congratulations to you as well.”

“Thank you,” Quỳnh says. “I’ve been quite pleased with this reception. The publisher thought there was no chance a graphic novel like this would sell, but what do they know?”

“Like this?” Nicky asks.

“Two women in love, but not written or drawn for the male gaze,” Quỳnh explains, watching him like a hawk. 

Nicky seems to realize he’s being tested, though he seems puzzled as to why. Joe would be puzzled as well, but after having worked with her he knows she likes to do things like this for her own curiosity sometimes. 

“Your publisher should know that queer people want to see themselves in media, shouldn’t they?” Nicky asks. 

Quỳnh’s shoulders relax, just a bit, and she smiles. “Yes, they should.”

Nicky asks a few more polite questions about their process and their plans moving forward. Joe chokes at the mention of a sequel, but only a little. “Well,” Nicky says eventually. “I shouldn’t keep you, I can see you’re very busy. Joe - it was nice to see you again.”

“No, wait,” Joe says, recognizing that this is the only way he’ll be able to duck out early. “Let’s get a drink, catch up.” He looks at Quỳnh. “Can you handle it?”

“Yes, of course,” Quỳnh says, flapping her hand at him with a sly expression. Oh - she was testing Nicky because she thought he was an ex. Joe doesn’t correct her on whose ex he is. He just grabs his coat and drags Nicky out of there. 

They pause once they make it outside. Nicky clears his throat. “Did you really want to get a drink, or were you just looking for an excuse to escape?” he asks.

Joe bristles at that. “I wasn’t going to just blow you off as soon as we stepped outside,” he says. 

“Oh,” Nicky says. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that - never mind.” And he’s back to forcing a smile onto his face. Has Nicky ever smiled at him for real? Joe can’t remember. He’d forgotten how awkward Nicky was.

“Come on,” he says, determined to push through regardless. “There’s a Starbucks around the corner.”

“Oh no, please,” Nicky says quickly. “Not that American monstrosity. There’s a nice little coffee shop I go to a few blocks further down?”

“Sure,” Joe says, because he wasn’t looking forward to that over roasted crap either - he has no idea where he is, and recommended it for the sake of expediency. 

The coffee shop Nicky brings them to _is_ nice. Cozy, no frills, with a handful of mismatched tables and rickety chairs - the kind of place that doesn’t need to give out free wifi because that’s not what their customers are there for. Nicky tells him that the espresso is good (“Though not as good as what you can get in Italia, of course”) but he orders a hot chocolate for himself. He raises an eyebrow at Joe’s order of a caramel macchiato, but doesn’t say anything.

“So,” he says, while they’re waiting for the drinks. “You have a writing partner, now? Was that a difficult adjustment for you?”

Joe squints at him. “Adjustment?” he asks.

“After your webcomics,” Nicky says. “You had complete control then, and now…”

Joe pulls out a packet of sugar for something to do with his hands, to hide that he’s oddly touched that Nicky remembered that, after - what, three years now? It was probably the most interesting thing Nicky knew about him, but still. 

“It was an adjustment,” he says. “But I had done some freelance work before I teamed up with Quỳnh, so I was used to doing the art for stories that weren’t my own.”

Nicky’s drink comes, and he takes it with a smile. “And are you still working on your own projects?”

“Not really - I’m still working in sales and now that I have deadlines I’m being paid to meet, it’s a lot harder to find the time. And what about you, are you...” Joe trails off, trying desperately to think of something he can ask Nicky about, but draws a total blank. “Still a nurse?”

Nicky side eyes him like he knows exactly what Joe was trying and failing to do. “Yes, still a nurse,” he says slyly. “Still Italian, too.”

Joe laughs, and feels some of the tension leave him. “I’m sorry, you must think I’m an asshole. First I forget your name -”

“Of course I don’t think you’re an asshole,” Nicky cuts him off. “I know we didn’t know each other well. And I haven’t forgotten how kind you were to me when I needed it most.”

That gets them both to stop speaking, though the awkward silence doesn’t last long before Joe’s drink comes. Joe’s been fiddling with this packet of sugar for long enough now that he can’t put it back, so he rips it open and empties it into his cup.

“And Lykon?” Nicky asks quietly. “How is he?”

Joe stirs his drink slowly. “He’s great,” he says honestly. “Really great.”

Nicky nods, looking down at his cup. “Good,” he says. He takes a sip, and he doesn’t look unhappy, but he also doesn’t look as pleased as he did when he took his first sip.

“Why did you agree to an open relationship?” Joe asks. 

Nicky looks up at him, startled. 

“Ah, sorry,” Joe says. “That’s none of my business, you don’t have to answer.”

“No,” Nicky says slowly. “It’s alright. I… I wanted to be okay with it. And I am, I think, but not if I'm involved. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Joe says, trying his own drink. It is good, much better than Starbucks would have been.

“And also, if I’m being honest,” Nicky says pensively. “Lykon was so _fun._ I just didn’t want to - to lose that.”

Something about the way he says _fun,_ like he was surprised to have that in a relationship, like that’s something he doesn’t expect to get again, makes Joe’s stomach twist. 

“Well,” Nicky says. “I’m at the beginning of this shift schedule so I should be getting home to get some sleep.”

“Oh,” Joe says. 

“I really was very glad to see you,” Nicky says. “And happy to see that you are enjoying professional success. It is very well deserved.”

“Thanks,” Joe says. 

Nicky sticks out his hand. “Goodbye, Joe.”

Joe takes it. They probably won’t see each other again. “Goodbye.”

* * *

Joe moves into a bigger apartment a few months after the book is published, now that he’s getting some royalties on top of his regular salary. Booker and Andy help him move in and give him shit about the new yuppie neighborhood he’s moved into, and everyone else stops in over the next few weeks. Nile helps him set up the little studio (it’s mostly an excuse to steal his colored pencils - Joe swears she’s wasted on the law). Quỳnh stops by and gives him a lantern from Hoi An. It’s so beautiful that Joe has to hug her for nearly ten minutes.

Lykon shows up to crash on his couch for a few hours after one of his stints at the fire station. After he wakes up he peeks in Joe’s fridge, and is out the door before Joe can wrangle him into helping him move his dresser. “You know I love you, Yusuf,” Lykon calls. “But I will not come back until you have ample food for me to poach.”

“Stay gone, then, ingrate,” Joe bellows back. “I don’t remember inviting you!”

But Lykon does raise a good point, that the only things in Joe’s fridge are mostly-empty takeout boxes and a few jars of condiments. He looks up grocery stores on his phone, and sees that the park a few blocks over has an actual farmers market on the weekends - Joe spent most of his college years in a food desert, and the years since one block away from a Target superstore, so that’s a novelty. If he’s living in a yuppie neighborhood he might as well lean into it; he takes some of his reusable bags with him to check it out.

It’s way better than Target (Joe knows that already, guiltily) right up until he finishes a purchase and sees an oddly familiar profile a few stalls down.

Joe shouldn’t be surprised to see Nicky at the farmers market. The bookshop Joe was signing in is just around the corner and Nicky said he was on his way home from work, and it just seems like the sort of place he would be. But it's still weird to watch him purchasing a handful of tomatoes and placing them in his reusable bag. Nicky looks in his direction, double-taking when he sees him. Joe tries to pretend he wasn’t trying to decide between saying something or trying to disappear without being spotted, and waves. 

Nicky comes over to him. “Hello, Joe. I didn’t know you lived in the area,” he says. 

“I just moved,” Joe says. “It’s only been a few weeks.”

Nicky nods. “How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s been good, but I’ve mostly just been unpacking. This is the first time I’ve had a chance to get out.” That’s not really true, but Nicky doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, I’ve been here for about two years and I have no complaints,” Nicky says. “I love this park, especially in winter. The lake freezes over and you can rent skates to go out on the ice.”

“Ugh,” Joe says. 

“You don’t like ice-skating?” Nicky asks. 

“Tried it once and broke my wrist,” Joe says. 

“Ah,” Nicky says. “Well.”

Joe clears his throat. “I should let you get back to your shopping.”

“Yes, nice to see you again,” Nicky says, and wanders off. 

They bump into each other two more times in the next fifteen minutes. The third time Joe gets fed up. “This is ridiculous,” he says. “Let’s just finish together, it’ll save us the awkward smiling and nodding.”

Nicky chuckles a little and agrees, and they check off the rest of their lists together. Joe finishes faster than he would have on his own - Nicky knows where things are, so Joe doesn’t have to double back as often as he would normally. And Nicky waits patiently as Joe tries every flavor of hummus at that stand and gets one for himself as well, even though Joe knows it wasn’t on his list. 

“Well, I don’t normally like shopping, but this was okay,” Joe says, a little surprised, while they’re walking away.

“I’ve always found a farmer’s market more pleasant than a grocery store, especially the ones here,” Nicky says. “At least this way you can be out in the open air.” Joe, remembering Nicky’s disdain for Starbucks, resolves to never mention that he used to get his groceries from a Target, and wonders why he thinks that would ever come up.

They pause at the entrance of the park. “Which way are you headed?” Joe asks, because after the way this day has played out so far he is not taking a chance on saying goodbye only to start walking in the same direction. Nicky waves a hand towards his right, and Joe heaves a sigh of relief, jerking his head in the opposite direction. 

“Would you like my number?” Nicky asks. “In case you need help unpacking, or recommendations about things in the area? No pressure, of course. I know it’s strange, but it seems silly not to offer.”

It is strange. His heartbreak didn’t last long, but Lykon was really hurt by what happened and Joe understands why. But it does seem silly not to have Nicky’s number when it seems like they might end up bumping into each other anyway. “Sure,” Joe says, handing over his phone. Nicky types in his information and sends himself a text before handing it back.

“Well, I’ll see you, maybe,” Nicky says. 

“It seems that way,” Joe muses, and goes on his way. 

* * *

The next weekend, Joe shows up at the farmers market ready to conquer it’s maze of stalls, and fails miserably. An hour in he curses and pulls out his phone. **Are you at the farmer’s market? I can’t find the hummus guy**

Nicky doesn’t text back for fifteen minutes, long enough for Joe to start feeling really stupid. Then his phone buzzes. **No, sorry, I’m at work.**

Joe curses and pinches the bridge of his nose. He’ll have to take the methodical approach then, which he’s already tried. It’s helped him pass by the cider place six times already, but hasn’t gotten him any closer to checking off his final item; he gets distracted too easily. His phone buzzes. **How are you with cardinal directions? I think he is usually in the Southeast corner.**

Joe still gets pulled away by some of the smells and sights, but with a direction to aim for he eventually finds the hummus stall where Nicky said it would be. As he’s waiting to try the newest rotating flavor, he sends Nicky a text. **Found it finally, thank you**

 **You’re welcome,** Nicky texts back. Then a few moments later he adds: **How on earth did you manage to eat through all of that hummus?**

Joe snorts. **I saw you with about 8 different types of pasta, so don’t even start. At least hummus is good for you.**

The next text comes immediately. **How dare you.**

Joe laughs, because it’s just so predictable. 

**This is how you repay me?**

**After I helped you in your hour of need :(**

Joe snickers, and texts back: **Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Thanks again**

Over the next few months, Joe runs into Nicky every so often at the farmer’s market. Some weekends Nicky doesn’t make it, because of his work schedule - Joe doesn’t understand it because he doesn’t ask, though he does start to recognize when one of those missing weekends is coming up because Nicky will stock up on things with longer shelf-life. When they do run into each other, they make small talk and move through the stalls together.

Joe doesn’t mention it to Lykon when he stops by, because it is kind of weird, that Lykon’s ex-boyfriend texts Joe things like - **If you’re here, the apples look particularly good this week** and **thank you for that recipe, I did not know what I was going to do with that much couscous**

* * *

It isn’t often that Joe is in the mood to go clubbing, but when Andy cancels one of their Friday get-togethers, Joe is in the mood for the first time since he moved here. He squeezes himself into the tightest pair of pants he owns, and looks up local gay bars on his phone, figuring that he can always go back to his old haunts if there’s nothing good close by. 

He’s not planning to pick someone up - his apartment is still obviously post-move, with empty cardboard boxes shoved into corners that he hasn’t broken down yet. People at clubs are not necessarily going to mind, but Joe is a gentleman and will hold himself to his own standard. And there’s nothing wrong with just dancing, and maybe making out with a stranger.

The crowd in the first club he tries is too young, but the second is better, and Joe dances with a lot of people, and flirts with a lot of people. He doesn’t take anyone up on an offer of more. 

He’s not drinking - he’s not in _that_ kind of very rare mood, and he'd want friends with him for that - but when the DJ starts playing Party in the USA he escapes to the bar area. Hopefully this is some kind of weird joke. The rest of the music has been fine but Joe will gladly leave this place in the dust if that changes. He’s not alone in his mad dash away from the dance floor, and he overhears a lot of “no way’s” and “not this, not after the week I’ve had,” so that gives him hope. 

It’s late, so he decides that if he’s going to dance with someone else it will be from this pool of people who have elected not to dance to one of the worst songs in all of human history. He scans the crowd. 

Nobody catches his interest and he’s about to call it a night and start the walk home when he spots someone further down, leaning against the bar. He’s partially turned away - Joe can’t quite see his face, which is usually something that matters to him. But something about the angle makes the man’s shoulders look obscenely broad, and when the crowd shifts Joe sees how trim his waist is, and that’s it, he’s done, it’s over. He pushes his way through the crowd.

Up close the man’s shoulder to waist ratio is even more ridiculous. Joe still can only see the back of his head, hair an unremarkable shade of brown in an unremarkable haircut, but with a body like that there is very little that would make Joe back out now. He slides in behind him and leans against the bar in a way that he knows will draw attention to the strip of his chest where Joe left his shirt unbuttoned. He wets his lips a little, so they won’t look too dry. He puts his hand on the man’s arm, just above his elbow, and says, “Excuse me, I am not usually so forward - but I saw you and knew I would not forgive myself if I did not ask you to dance.”

The man turns around, and Joe feels his stomach plummet through the floor and bury itself somewhere in the foundations of this building. He closes his eyes, hoping that when he opens them again things will have changed. 

They haven’t. The man Joe has been ogling is Nicky, who is staring back at him, looking just as shocked as Joe feels. 

_What the fuck,_ Joe thinks. Somehow, being face to face is making Joe run hotter than the view of back - he’s never seen Nicky in a tight shirt before, and _fuck_ he has a firm looking chest. And a tiny waist. And sturdy thighs. Joe frantically searches for something that will put Nicky safely back on his not-hot list, but comes up empty. Even his face, which Joe remembers thinking was kind of weird, is really, really, doing it for him. In this moment, Joe wants nothing more than to feel Nicky’s nose digging into his cheek. 

Joe opens his mouth to apologize, to try to laugh it off as an innocent misunderstanding, when he realizes that Nicky hasn’t said anything either. That he is staring at the sharp V of chest that Joe wanted to bring attention to with a slightly open mouth. 

_Don’t do it,_ Joe thinks hysterically, as Nicky’s eyes wander up, over his shoulders, but when they land on his face Joe ignores the sane part of his brain and tugs at his lower lip with his teeth. 

Nicky swallows, hard, but it's still not too late to salvage this - and then the person standing behind Nicky jostles him a little, knocking him closer to Joe and giving him the perfect excuse to get his hands on Nicky’s hips. Nicky’s breath shudders out of him and his eyes flutter closed before he opens them, determined. 

He threads his fingers through the belt loops in Joe’s pants and leads him towards the dance floor, and Joe lets him, even though Party in the USA is still fucking playing. 

They dance for two seconds before it becomes a dirty grind. Their eyes keep meeting and darting away, but they don’t untangle from each other. Joe spins Nicky around, tugging him back against his chest, and that makes it easier, as does the hand Nicky fists into Joe’s hair to drag his mouth to the side of his neck. Joe nibbles the skin there, and feels Nicky swallow back a noise when he starts to suck in a bruise. Joe tucks two fingertips just underneath his belt and caresses the skin there - Nicky grinds back against him once, twice - Joe reaches down and cups him, tracing the shape of him through the fabric, and Nicky takes that hand and drags him out of a side door of the club and into an alleyway.

The shock of cool air on his skin isn’t enough to make Joe any less eager for it, so he lets himself be pressed against the wall. Nicky works a thigh between his legs and starts rubbing against him, and Joe really can’t deal with Nicky’s eyes at the moment so he grabs him closer and kisses him, and it’s good, it’s good, the drag of Nicky’s mouth and the way he’s hard against Joe’s hip is so fucking good, but Nicky apparently decides that it isn’t good enough, because he slides his hands under Joe’s thighs and lifts. 

Joe has been manhandled before, but he’s usually had to help a little, or his partner has had gravity working in his favor, and something about the way Nicky picks him up so casually makes Joe throw his head back against the wall, and come in his pants. 

When Joe regains control of his brain Nicky is still holding him up, gaping at him.

Joe flushes. “It’s just been awhile,” he says. “And I’ve been on edge for hours. Don’t read into it.”

Nicky smiles, a little goofily, and lets him down. “I’ll do my best,” he says. 

Well. This was _not_ in his plan for tonight, but he has to offer. Joe clears his throat, and motions to Nicky’s pants, where he’s still very visibly hard. “Do you want me to…”

“Ah, no,” Nicky says. “Thank you, but I prefer to take my time. I’ll take care of it when I get home.”

In keeping with the bizarre way this night has played out, Joe doesn’t feel relieved at all. Just disappointed. “Okay,” he says, managing to not invite himself along to help.

Nicky smiles at him and squeezes his arm before disappearing back into the club. Joe follows, to see how well he can clean himself up in the bathroom - the answer is barely at all. He gives up just in time to see Nicky closing out his tab at the bar. 

The bathrooms are fairly far away, so Nicky doesn't spot him when he pauses near the door and looks back into the club. Nicky shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, and leaves. 

Joe spends all of Saturday teetering between feeling numb with shock and dreading the next day, when the farmers market looms in all of its WASPy glory. 

On Sunday, he decides to just check out the grocery store that’s closer than the park - he tells himself that he’s been meaning to do that anyway, because the weather won’t always be this good, and he should know what it’s like before he _has_ to know what it’s like.

The terrible overhead light saps his energy immediately.

The hummus selection is truly depressing. He picks up toilet paper and toothpaste and leaves. 

He doesn’t see Nicky at the farmers market, but that might be because it’s getting close enough to fall that Joe feels justified in keeping his hood up, and his eyes trained on the ground like a coward.

So - okay. Joe knows they need to talk, but he has no idea how to do it, because Nicky’s number is for innocuous comments about food, not: hey, we need to hash out boundaries now that you seem to be interested in sex with me, and by the way, I will not be available for that activity on Friday, if that is in fact something you are still interested in, because I will be hanging out with your ex-boyfriend. Every time he picks up his phone to try, he ends up just staring at the last thing in the chat, a picture Joe sent of the pumpkins at the farmers market, because Nicky had mentioned the last time they had shopped together that he’d been looking forward to the fall seasonals.

Joe is staring at that when Nicky texts him on Wednesday, and Joe is so shocked that he drops his phone. He had been lying on the couch holding it above his head so it hits him on the nose and bounces away onto the floor. He takes a few moments to be grateful that he lives alone and no one has to bear witness to this mess before he picks it up. 

**Just so you know, I will not be at the farmers market on Sunday. I will be coming off of a three-day 12-hour night shift rotation, and will be able to do nothing but sleep once I am done at 7 am on Sunday.**

It’s casual, and it has just enough information that Joe can figure out that no, Nicky will not be at the club on Friday, and that he can go to the farmers market without skulking around like he’s trying to hide. They’ll still have to talk, but it gives him a few more days to decide what he’s going to say.

On Friday he heads over to Andy’s a few hours early because it’s his turn to provide the food, and he wants shakshouka because after the last few days he desperately needs some grounding, familiar food.

Quỳnh pulls open the door when he arrives, and Joe blinks at her, startled. “Hi Joe,” she says. 

“Uh,” he says. 

Quỳnh rolls her eyes. “Andy!” she shouts back into the house. “Why is Joe surprised to see me?”

Andy marches down the hallway, arms tightly crossed, a sour look on her face. 

“We’re dating now,” she informs Joe coolly, and walks away. 

“Don’t sound too happy about it!” Quỳnh yells at her rapidly retreating back. She smiles at Joe, unconcerned about Andy’s dispassionate delivery. 

“How long has this been going on?” Joe asks. 

“I asked for her number when she came to our first signing,” Quỳnh tells him. “Sorry, I would have mentioned it but it was very new, and when it became serious I thought she would have told you.”

“It’s serious?” Joe asks. 

“I think so,” Quỳnh tells him, glancing down the hallway. Perhaps not as assured as she seems. 

“Andy’s never introduced us to someone else before,” Joe says. “So. There’s that.”

Quỳnh smiles. “Thank you,” she says, and helps him take the food inside. 

No one else knew about Quỳnh either and with each new introduction Andy grows surlier and surlier, and dinner is very tense until Quỳnh whispers something in Andy’s ear and Andy laughs and actually melts, turning into Quỳnh and kissing her cheek. 

It’s still awkward after that because they all love Andy and know that she loves them back, but nobody has seen her that affectionate with anyone. Booker, who’s known her the longest, has to escape outside for a smoke, and Lykon, usually happy to be in the center of everything, helps Joe clean up in the kitchen. Joe would feel a little bad about leaving Nile with them alone but that woman has nerves of steel.

“Strange, to see her like this,” Lykon remarks. “But good.”

“Yeah,” Joe says. 

“Still, she should have told us,” Lykon says. 

After that, Joe has no excuse. “Um, speaking of,” he says, hoping his face isn’t betraying too much. “I, uh. Nicky lives in my neighborhood.”

Lykon tilts his head. “Who?”

Joe did not anticipate this. Nicky remembered Lykon. Nicky remembered _Joe._ Joe’s stomach twists, the same way it did when Nicky had said Lykon had been _fun_ all those months ago. It’s something close to pity.

“Oh, _Nicky,”_ Lykon says, eyes clearing. 

“I’ve bumped into him at the farmers market a few times,” Joe says quickly. “And... a few other places. Just thought I’d mention it.”

“Alright,” Lykon says. “How is he?”

“He seems okay,” Joe says. 

“Glad to hear it,” Lykon says, patting Joe on the shoulder and heading back to sit next to Nile. 

* * *

On Saturday, Joe sends Nicky a text. **That sucks. If you want, you could send me a list and I could pick up some stuff for you?**

Nicky doesn’t text back for a while. **I don’t want you to go to any trouble,** he sends eventually. **I probably won’t wake up again until 7.**

 **I’m going anyway. It’s no trouble** , Joe sends back. 

Nicky’s list isn’t too long, just a handful of fresh fruits and vegetables. Nicky texts him at 6:30 with his address. Joe tries not to read too much into the half hour early.

Joe gets to Nicky’s door as quickly as he possibly could - he knocks, grateful that Nicky doesn’t know how far away Joe’s apartment is. Nicky opens the door with a smile, and lets Joe in. He thanks Joe for the groceries, and he really is grateful for them, Joe can tell. He sorts through the bag, and beams when he sees the spaghetti squash that Joe picked up for him, which hadn’t been on his list. 

“How much do I owe you?” Nicky asks, pulling out his phone. 

“Can we talk?” Joe asks, instead of answering. 

Nicky pockets his phone. “Alright.”

“I just want to make sure we’re both on the same page.” Joe says. “That if we’re going to do… anything, it should just be casual sex. I don’t want to date you. It’s too weird.” Nicky just looks back at him placidly, and Joe realizes that he isn’t dressed anywhere as nicely as he was at the club. Joe hadn’t wanted to look like he was putting in much effort, but at least he’s wearing jeans and a shirt, not something one step above pajamas. “Or, you know, if you just wanted me to fetch groceries, we can forget I ever said anything,” he adds.

“I did want the groceries.”

“Oh,” Joe says, feeling wrongfooted and ridiculously disappointed, until he catches a small uptick in the corner of Nicky’s mouth. “You’re teasing me?” He asks. 

“Maybe a little,” Nicky says, stepping closer. “I agree, keeping this casual is probably for the best. Will you let me blow you?”

“What?” Joe asks. “Are you serious, just like that?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to be surprised and have the evening end too soon, again,” Nicky says, smiling wide enough that Joe can be sure that he is teasing, now.

“Okay, first of all, I had been half-hard for hours at that point, so really I showed incredible stamina,” Joe says, playing at being offended, tugging Nicky closer and slipping his hands under Nicky’s shirt. It’s unflattering, but lets him get hands on Nicky’s back very quickly, which he supposes is a point in its baggy favor. “And second of all, it sounds like you’re trying to lower my expectations.”

Nicky’s eyes flash, but before he can say something snarky in response Joe kisses him. 

They kissed at the club, but Joe had been too on edge to properly appreciate it. Nicky is a little shorter than him, and Joe places a hand on the sharp jut of his jaw to tilt his face up, and discovers he likes that very much. Nicky seems happy to take it slow - with how forward he’s been, Joe would have expected him to be eager for the main event. But instead he winds a hand through Joe’s hair, makes low humming sounds whenever Joe tries something different. 

Nicky’s hair is a little damp - he must have just taken a shower, and Joe ducks his head to get a better whiff of the soap smell still clinging to his skin. He’s always felt you can tell a lot about a person by how they choose to smell - Nicky smells fresh and light, like lemon and mint. 

“Bed?” Nicky asks, taking the way Joe is nibbling at his throat as a sign that Joe wants to move things along. Which is true. Joe nods. 

He takes off his clothes while Nicky rummages around in the nightstand. When Nicky turns around to find Joe completely naked, his eyes go dark in a way that is very flattering, and things escalate quickly from there. Joe is tipped back onto the bed. Nicky climbs over him, frustratingly still wearing that terribly baggy shirt, and sucks a line of bruises down his chest. By the time he reaches Joe’s cock he’s forgotten to complain about the shirt, and when he rolls on the condom and sucks Joe down he forgets to think entirely. 

“Fuck,” Joe gasps, when it’s over and Nicky is disposing of the condom with an air that is decidedly smug. “Wait, hold on -”

Nicky shakes his head. “It won’t take much,” he rasps, voice wrecked, finally ridding himself of his awful shirt. “Just -”

His hand on Joe’s thigh flexes, and he starts jacking himself off at a pace that is frankly astounding, and within a matter of moments comes all over that shirt. 

“Wow,” Joe says, still in his lazy post-orgasm haze. “And you were trying to give me a hard time for coming quickly. Do you even need me here?”

Nicky sits back on his heels, panting and smiling. “Here I was thinking you would be flattered.”

“Hmm,” Joe says, propping his head up beneath his arm. Nicky without his shirt is less perfect than Joe imagined - though people tend to be. He’s clearly fit, but far from a sculpted specimen. He has a little bit of a belly; it’s very cute. Probably from all that pasta, Joe thinks, unexpectedly fond. “I do actually like to reciprocate, you know.”

“Good,” Nicky says. “That was really just to take the edge off.”

Joe raises his eyebrows. “Was it?”

“I just woke up from eight hours of sleep. I was going to eat something, and then return to...” he waves a hand between them. “And hope that after that I could fall back asleep and wake up at a somewhat reasonable time.”

“I see,” Joe says. “I could get on board with that.”

“Did you eat?” Nicky asks. “I have lasagna.”

“Vegetarian?” Joe asks. 

“Oh,” Nicky says. “No, it’s not.”

“It’s fine, I ate before I came over,” Joe lies, and his traitorous stomach chooses that moment to gurgle. 

“Let me see if I have something,” Nicky says, looking distressed. 

“Nicky, it’s really not a big deal…” Joe tries, but Nicky is already pulling his pants up and heading towards the kitchen. 

Joe cleans himself up in the bathroom before heading out to join him.

“I do have some pesto,” Nicky tells him, shaking the container viciously and peering at the contents like they insulted his mother. “Though I think it’s almost a week old by now.”

Joe takes it from him and gives it a sniff test. “It smells fine.”

“I can also make a caprese salad,” Nicky says, rummaging around in the fridge and pulling out a ball of mozzarella. “Well, I could make bruschetta, if you prefer, but caprese would be faster.”

“You really don’t have to,” Joe says. 

“No, Joe, you’re a guest - I invited you over, at _suppertime -”_

“Hey, I invited myself over, remember?” Joe says. “I know you’ve been at work. It’s fine.”

Nicky shuts his eyes and breathes deeply. “Is this going to be enough for you?” 

Joe weighs it in his hands. “Yeah,” he says. 

“Are you sure? It really is an easy thing to make caprese.”

“It’s enough. Besides, if you feed me too much I’ll be too lazy for whatever you have planned.”

Nicky smiles. “That is a good point,” he concedes, and puts the mozzarella back in the fridge.

Aside from having lost its freshness the pesto tastes good, and the lasagna Nicky heats up for himself smells amazing. “You like to cook?” Joe asks. Joe cooks somewhat regularly, though that’s mostly because neither Dutch or Tunisian food is easy to come by here.

“Oh yes,” Nicky says, and starts talking about the bruschetta he made for a potluck for his work, and how he couldn’t believe how much praise was heaped on him when really the only difference between his and the other dishes was that he made it from scratch and with fresh ingredients. “At this point how can I be sure that what I make is good, with such a low bar?” he gripes.

Joe laughs. “Well, I thought this was very good,” he tells him. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Nicky says, clearing his plate and adding, “no please, I insist” when Joe offers to help. 

So Joe stays in his seat and plays with his phone while he waits for Nicky to finish rinsing the plates. This has been very different from how Joe’s hook ups have played out in the past, but it’s been nice. Their interactions before this have mostly been some flavor of awkward, but there’s very little of that here. 

Nicky comes out of the kitchen. He never bothered to put on a new shirt, just threw on an oversized sweater and zipped it up halfway. Joe gazes at what he can see of his chest appreciatively. “All done?” he asks. 

“All done,” Nicky repeats, and straddles Joe in his chair. 

“Oof, you’re heavy,” Joe says, smiling when Nicky rolls his eyes, even though he’s only half-joking. Nicky’s rickety kitchen chair is not going to give Joe enough support to handle a man of Nicky’s size for long. “Something on your mind?”

“I was thinking about my shower,” Nicky says.

“Oh, you were?” Joe asks, pulling down the zipper of Nickys sweater and getting his hands on that skin, hoping he knows where this is going.

“It was _very_ thorough,” Nicky confirms. 

“It was?” He’s only half-listening, preoccupied with smoothing his hands over Nicky's shoulders, down his sides. 

“Oh yes,” Nicky says, breaths turning more ragged as he presses into Joe’s grip. “Though. I could use a second opinion?” 

Joe has to bite his lip to keep from laughing, but he can't hide his amusement. After a few moments, Nicky starts chuckling at himself too. “Sorry,” he says. “Forget I said that.”

“No, no, you want me to check?” Joe says. He ducks his head and makes a show of running his nose along Nicky’s collarbone, sniffing loudly. “All clean here!” he announces, and switches to the other side. 

“Joe,” Nicky laughs, squirming as Joe mouths at his shoulder. 

“No, no,” Joe says. “I’m not so sure about this spot, right _here_?” he scrapes his teeth over the skin on Nicky’s neck, just below his ear, and follows it up with a kiss. “Think you might have been a little careless, there.”

“Oh,” Nicky murmurs, tilting his head to give Joe better access. “Yes, I - I think you’d better make sure -”

Joe had forgotten how fun sex can be, when the pressure of impressing someone you’re interested in and making it _good_ is lifted. Things that work well are a pleasant surprise, and when something doesn't go smoothly Joe doesn’t have to feel like he’s ruined anything. 

“What is going on back there?” Nicky asks crossly. 

“Shush,” Joe says. He’s still struggling to rip open the condom wrapper (a difficult thing when half of your fingers are slick with lube, and this isn’t his usual brand and isn’t responding to his usual tricks - he did come prepared, but it turns out Nicky’s allergic to latex). He bends down to press a kiss to the small of Nicky’s back, as an apology. 

Nicky makes a noise like a startled horse, and then curses when Joe chuckles at him. “If you don’t hurry up -”

“Aha!” Joe cries triumphantly, finally getting the damn thing open. 

“Finally,” Nicky says as Joe rolls it on. He wiggles his hips impatiently. “Are you - oh. _Oh.”_

Things don’t go perfectly after that - it takes a while for them to find an angle that works, but when they do Joe gets to appreciate the lean lines of Nicky’s back as he’s fucked, and the way his knuckles go white from how hard he grips the headboard, and how delightfully he shivers when Joe scrapes his beard between Nicky’s shoulder blades.

After, Joe rolls off of him, mind blissfully blank as he stares up at Nicky’s ceiling which, he notices idly, could use an extra coat of paint. 

“I take it,” Nicky says, panting and sprawled out on his stomach like he’d be happy to stay like that forever. “That was enough reciprocation for you?”

“Mmm,” Joe hums. “And was that - do you think you’ll be able to sleep now?”

Nicky rearranges himself so he’s on his back. “If I can’t it won’t be anything to do with you.”

“Good,” Joe says. 

“I think… this went well enough to do it again?” Nicky asks. 

If Joe were being brutally honest he would say that the sex could have been better - but that’s not much of a surprise with them being new to each other. And an easy atmosphere can be hard to find. “Yeah,” he says. 

“My schedule can be difficult,” Nicky says. 

“Maybe, I can text you?” Joe says. “When I’m free, and in the mood, and if you aren’t - no big deal.”

“Okay,” Nicky says. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m probably going to fall asleep soon. Do you want to take a shower?”

“No, I’ll do that at home.” Joe says, getting up and pulling on his clothes. Nicky pulls on underwear to see Joe out. He looks satisfied and sleepy as he mutters “Goodnight, Joe,” and closes the door. 

“Huh,” Joe says out loud, in the hallway. “Huh.”

* * *

He doesn’t text Nicky until a week later, and his face burns as he types out **Would it be cool if I came over?** He wishes he could take it back the moment it disappears into whatever liminal space texts disappear into. _Would it be cool?_ Humiliating. 

**Sure** Nicky sends back. **Just give me half an hour.**

Joe takes himself over. Nicky lets him in, hair damp again, and kisses Joe up against his door immediately. 

“So,” Joe says. “You need me to check how good your shower was again? Give you…” he grabs Nicky’s ass to drag him closer. “A proper inspection?”

Nicky smiles and looks at Joe slyly. “Actually,” he says. “I’ve been having trouble with my flexibility lately. Maybe you could… help me stretch?”

Joe laughs, helplessly. “That’s even worse,” he says.

Nicky shrugs and runs one of his hands along Joe’s shoulder. “I thought, if terrible lines worked on you the first time…”

“You’re lucky you’re hot,” Joe says. “Lead the way.”

As it turns out, Nicky is not _that_ flexible, not that it really matters. He holds one of his legs up to his chest as Joe sinks inside, but loses his grip once things start to pick up speed. He grasps at Joe’s shoulders after that, and eventually reaches up to brace himself against the headboard so he can push back against Joe’s thrusts. Joe doesn’t last very long once that happens, slamming into Nicky a few more times until every muscle in his body locks up and all he can do is grind forward as he comes. 

“Sorry,” he manages, when his brain comes back online. “Didn’t mean to leave you hanging.”

Nicky’s hair is long enough to stick to his face when he’s getting fucked, and Joe lifts a hand to brush it away from his forehead. “That was very good,” Nicky says, breathing heavily. He’s still hard, rubbing himself up against Joe’s stomach in tiny little movements like he can’t quite help himself.

“What do you want?” Joe asks. He props himself up and grasps Nicky loosely, rubbing his thumb over the head of his cock. “Want me to suck you?”

Nicky twitches into Joe’s hand and moans. He scrabbles in his bedside drawer and pulls out another condom, rolling it onto himself. 

“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Joe says, and gets to work.

Later, they sit up against the headboard and drink the water that Nicky got up to fetch for them. “That went a bit smoother,” Joe says. “But the angle wasn’t as good for you?” Last time, when Joe managed to find Nicky’s prostate he had started babbling in Italian, and Joe had been looking forward to hearing that again.

Nicky shrugs, and takes a sip of his own water. “Can’t be helped, sometimes.”

Joe hums. “Next time. We should really take the time to make sure I get it right.”

“Well, if you have your mind set on it…” Nicky says, trailing off and raising his eyebrow. Joe chuckles. 

Nicky leans forward and tries to touch his toes halfheartedly before settling back against the headboard. “Actually,” Joe says, watching him. “Could we talk, about next time?”

“Of course,” Nicky says, turning towards him immediately. “What about?”

“I just…” Joe reaches for Nicky’s hand, suddenly aware that he needs some kind of connection for this. Nicky lets him take it, slotting their fingers together easily. “I felt kind of gross, texting you tonight. Not because of you, just because… it felt weird. Sleazy.”

“I... see,” Nicky says. “Well, that’s not good.”

“No,” Joe agrees. 

Nicky thinks for a while, and says, “This may not be a perfect solution, but what if we switch?”

“What, so it’s your turn to ask me now?”

Nicky shrugs. “That way the pressure isn’t always on you? And you won’t have to feel like it is only you being sleazy.”

Joe considers it. He’s not sure if that would make him feel any better when it’s his turn, but at least it would help some of the time. “We can give it a try,” he says. “And maybe set some guidelines? On how often we want to do something like this, that way we don’t have to worry about asking too often?”

“Of course,” Nicky says, looking apologetic and squeezing Joe’s hand. “I can see how that would be - how that would be uncomfortable. How does once or twice a week sound?” 

“That sounds good,” Joe says, relieved. “Thanks.”

Nicky squeezes his hand again. “We should have talked more, shouldn’t we? I’m sorry, It seemed so easy last time, I didn’t think very much about it.”

“It’s okay,” Joe says. “It _was_ easy last time, I wasn’t thinking much either.”

“Is there anything else we should talk more about?” Nicky asks.

Joe hesitates, but Nicky is still holding his hand, clearly taking this seriously. “I like to cuddle, afterwards,” he says. “If that would make you uncomfortable, that’s fine, but I’d rather have a conversation like this while holding you.”

“Oh.”

“We don’t have to,” Joe says quickly. “I just -“

“No, I like it too,” Nicky says. “I was trying not to be too familiar.”

“If we both like it, is there an issue?” Joe asks. 

Nicky looks down at their tangled hands. “I suppose not.”

“Great,” Joe says, and lets go. “So I guess - you’ll text me?”

“I will,” Nicky says, and gets up to see Joe out the door again.


	3. oh no, who could have predicted this?

Joe wonders if it will be weird to bump into Nicky at the farmers market again, but when they finally do a few weeks later nothing much has changed. Nicky still greets him as politely as he always has. If he buys a few more containers of hummus, because Joe snacked on that the last time he went over to Nicky’s place, neither of them mention it. He’d come out of the bathroom, and shaken his head when he saw what Joe was eating. “I went to all the trouble of preparing a vegetarian lasagna for you, and this is what you do?” he’d asked, and Joe had grinned and crunched his carrot obnoxiously. 

So Joe actually feels like his life is - not on track, exactly, but close. He’s still working full time at a job that is not fulfilling, but he can call himself an artist if people ask him what he does. He has wonderful friends, and a “relationship” that isn’t meaningful, but works, for what it is. It hasn't always been easy, being the only one of his friends that wasn’t happy with what he had. It's nice, to feel like he’s finally putting something of a life together.

At the end of one of their farmers market unintentional meetups, a couple of months after they started their illicit adventures, Nicky asks, “Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?”

Joe turns to him, frowning. They did away with the hard requirement to switch off a couple of weeks ago because it had gotten easier as things moved along, but they’ve stuck to it for the most part, and Nicky had asked, last time. But Nicky just looks genuinely curious, and it's cold enough to make conversation a welcome distraction from the chill in the air. “Just a meeting with Quỳnh,” Joe says. “I think she’s been thinking about a sequel.”

“That’s wonderful,” Nicky says. 

“Yeah,” Joe says. 

“Are you famous?”

Joe trips over his own feet, staggering forward a few steps before he gets things under control. “What?”

“I was just wondering,” Nicky says. “Your book was successful, I know that - but I don’t know if you’re famous.”

“Of course not,” Joe begins, and realizes he’s not sure. He doesn’t bother with social media, because he does not have time or emotional energy to deal with that.

Nicky just hums, and goes on his way. 

The question sticks with him, for long enough that the first words out of his mouth when he meets Quỳnh at her favorite cafe are: “Are we famous?” 

“What?” Quỳnh asks. 

“A friend asked me and I… realized I didn’t know?”

Quỳnh narrows her eyes. “Who?”

Joe cringes, though he thinks he keeps it safely internal. He’d forgotten that Quỳnh is getting to know all his friends. “Just a friend. You know.”

“Hmm,” Quỳnh says, but mercifully just adds, “Don’t get delusions of grandeur on me, Yusuf. I’ve published three books and no one bothers to troll me on twitter. _You’ve_ got a long way to go.”

Joe chuckles, and they get down to business - as he suspected, she’s been outlining a sequel. It sounds great, and Joe takes notes, makes a few sketches of the characters in the margins of his notebook as Quỳnh talks about where she wants to go with it to get back into the flow of things.

“I also set up a meeting for you with my agent,” she says, leaning back in her chair.

“Sure,” Joe says. “To go over contract stuff?”

“No. To talk about Red Waters.”

“What?” Joe asks. “Quỳnh - no. You didn’t.”

She scoffs. “I’ve read it, so of course I did. The industry needs more people like us. It needs more stories like yours.”

“Quỳnh, it’s…” Joe sighs. “I appreciate that, but I don’t have the time, especially if I’m working with you. And I do want to work with you, you know that.”

“You would have the time if you quit that terrible sales position,” Quỳnh says. 

“It’s not terrible,” Joe mutters.

Quỳnh rolls her eyes. She takes a deep breath, and deliberately softens herself just a tiny bit. “Obviously, that’s a big decision, and one that you would have to make yourself. I’m not going to push you about that. But I am going to push you to meet with Emily. It’s time for you to start asking the questions you need to, to make that decision, and she’s the one who will be able to answer them.”

Joe thinks about that, and nods. “Alright,” he says. “And thank you.”

* * *

He hadn’t kept the meeting a secret - Nile asked in the chat how it went, and they’ve all been respectful when he said that he didn’t want to talk about it right away. But that was two days ago, and he still feels odd and unsettled. Sometimes deliberately not talking about something is worse, so Joe decides not to meet up with them on Friday.

But after a few minutes of pacing back and forth in his living room, he realizes he could use a break from thinking about it. He tries to distract himself by finding something to watch but he always ends up zoning out and mulling over his options again. In the end, feeling unsure as he does it, he texts Nicky. **Can you come over?**

 **Sure ;)** Nicky sends back. Joe snorts at the winky face. 

Nicky smiles at him when Joe opens the door, steps right into his personal space, and kisses him. It’s nothing he hasn’t done before, but Joe, for some reason, just kind of stands there and lets it happen. 

Nicky pulls back. “Joe?” he asks. 

“Sorry,” Joe says, shaking his head. He pulls Nicky close and kisses him, and feels Nicky smile against his lips, but after a few moments he starts to disengage again. 

Nicky pulls back a second time. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Joe says. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Something on your mind?” Nicky asks. 

“I guess I’m just not feeling it,” Joe tells him. Which is definitely terrible, because he’s the one who invited Nicky over in the first place, less than half an hour ago. “Sorry,” he adds. 

“That’s alright,” Nicky says, though he looks a little thrown. “Do you - hmm. We could order some food? And watch something mindless on television?” 

“You don’t have to -“ Joe begins. 

Nicky reaches out but stops, hand hovering over Joe’s cheek. He ends up putting it on Joe’s shoulder instead. “If you want me to leave I can, but - you asked me over. So I am thinking you do want some company?"

Joe nods. 

“Then I am happy to stay,” Nicky says. 

They order from Joe’s favorite Greek restaurant. Nicky confesses to not eating much other than Italian (which is of course a _huge_ shock) and takes Joe’s recommendation. 

Joe expects the time waiting for the food to arrive to be strained. They’ve spent time in each other’s company before, but always after a mind numbing orgasm when it’s no use feeling strange because they’ve both just made some truly bizarre noises. But it doesn’t feel that different from those times. Nicky takes the initiative and rambles a bit about a cat he met on his way to work a few weeks ago that he’s been feeding, in the hopes that it will let him get close enough to it to allow Nicky to take it to the vet.

“You’re not thinking of adopting it, are you?” Joe asks skeptically. Nicky has named it Hiss, and Joe imagines that it’s not the best candidate for a pet.

“Oh, no.” Nicky says. “I just want to make sure it’s - ah, what do they call it here?” He waves a hand over his lap. “Neutralized?”

“Oh,” Joe says, wrinkling his nose. He thinks he knew this but he’s having trouble remembering just now. “It’ll come to me.”

Their food comes and they settle in front of the TV. Joe puts on a nature documentary with the volume turned down low, his favorite go-to for when he doesn’t want to have to pay that close attention, and forgets to think that it might be a bad idea until a gazelle gets ripped apart by a pack of lions. He glances at Nicky, who looks mournful, but is still shoveling his pita wrap into his mouth. Not squeamish then.

Nicky eats very fast - he’s noticed that before, because Joe is the same and it’s been nice not having to wait for Nicky to finish his own food once Joe is done. But he’s never noticed _how_ Nicky eats, taking one enormous bite and chewing on it for a while before swallowing it all and starting on the next one. He doesn’t quite end up with puffed out cheeks but it is close, and Joe finds himself smiling as he watches. 

Nicky catches him. He frowns, and has to keep chewing for a while before he can swallow and ask, “What is it?”

Joe laughs. “Nothing. You’re just funny, is all.”

Nicky blinks a few times. “I am?”

“Yeah,” Joe says, jostling him with his shoulder. 

Nicky smiles at him strangely, fingers playing with the edge of his pita. “People don’t usually say that about me. Or if they do they don’t really mean it.”

Joe sits up straighter. “I’m not trying to make fun of you.”

“No, I know,” Nicky says. “I know you wouldn’t do that.” He sets his plate down. “I’m going to go to the bathroom. Excuse me.”

Joe waits for a few minutes, and when Nicky doesn’t reappear goes after him. 

He’s left the door open, and Joe knocks on the frame. “Nicky?” He asks. 

“Sorry,” Nicky says, bending down and splashing some water on his face. He dries his face and steps to the side. “All yours.”

“Hey,” Joe says, halting Nicky by putting a hand on his waist. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” Nicky says. 

“Are you sure?”

Nicky nods. 

“Because you’re not looking at me.” 

Nicky sighs and turns his head, meeting Joe’s eyes. He doesn’t look happy. 

“What’s wrong?” Joe asks. 

“Nothing,” Nicky says. “Nothing, I’m…” he runs a hand through his hair. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply. When he opens them again he looks more like himself. “It’s nothing you should worry about,” he says, and tilts his head up to press his mouth to Joe’s. 

His lips stay closed, but Joe still makes a surprised noise against Nicky's mouth.

“Sorry,” Nicky says, pulling back. “Wasn’t thinking.” 

He’s flushed all the way down to his neck. To save him from further embarrassment Joe says “I don’t mind,” and presses a similar kiss to Nicky's lips to prove it. 

It’s Nicky's turn to make a startled noise. 

Joe shushes him and directs him back to the living room. “Let me just go to the bathroom and I’ll be right back out, okay?”

Nicky nods. 

When Joe finishes his business he doesn’t sit back down on the couch right away, just pauses in the hallway, looking at Nicky. Nicky doesn’t notice him, because he’s too busy scowling at the tv, muttering something under his breath. 

He’s beautiful in the low light, like he was in the club, all sharp angles of highlight and shadow. Even in a nondescript T-shirt there’s no hiding how broad his shoulders are. The arousal that Joe feels isn’t a surprise; but it’s banked, a low simmer, which is unusual. 

He crosses the room and settles down right next to Nicky on the couch, no space between them. He glances at the screen. “You really hate orcas, huh?”

“Little bastards,” Nicky mutters. He might have more to say about them, but that’s lost when Joe puts a hand on his cheek and turns his head so that he can kiss him, properly now. 

Nicky turns into him, opening his mouth for a few wondrous moments before pulling away, his eyebrows raised in a question. 

“This okay?” Joe asks. “I just want to make out a little.”

Nickys eyes drop to his lips. “Just make out?” He asks. 

“Maybe feel you up some too,” Joe says with a wink, because he believes in setting up clear expectations. “That’s it.”

Nicky hesitates, but then he sighs and places a hand on Joe’s neck, and closes the distance between them. 

Their first kiss is careful, not quite chaste but almost. Just lips, no tongue. Pressing closer is what breaks it off, when Nicky leans forward and rubs their cheeks together. 

“I like -“ he says, and stops. “I like how your beard feels against my face.”

“Just against your face?” Joe asks, grinning. “Not other parts of you?”

Nicky huffs out a laugh and kisses him again, deeper this time. Joe has no complaints. 

“You’re so -“ Nicky says, breaking off again. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Yeah?” Joe asks, flushing furiously. It’s not as though he doesn’t know that people find him attractive, but he hasn’t heard it in a while. He and Nicky haven’t needed to bother with that. 

Nicky nods. He reaches up and runs a thumb over Joe’s face, tracing his eyebrow, his nose, the skin just above his beard. His touch is so gentle. It feels wonderful. Joe leans into it. “Gorgeous,” Nicky says. “The most gorgeous man.”

“Nicky,” Joe breathes, crowding in closer. “Nicky.”

* * *

The first thing Joe becomes aware of as he wakes up is a large hand on his shoulder, shaking him carefully. The second is that he’s lying on something bumpy and uncomfortable, and a little too warm. The third is Nicky saying his name softly. “Joe?”

Joe hums and rubs his face harder into Nicky's chest for a moment. 

“Joe?” Nicky says. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Course,” Joe mumbles. “Sorry.” He turns his head and presses his lips into Nicky’s shirt. Nicky’s breath hitches. “Right, sorry,” Joe says, levering himself up. 

Nicky disappears into the bathroom, and Joe takes the takeout containers into the kitchen to consolidate what he’ll have to clean up in the morning. 

When Nicky comes out of the bathroom he beelines for his sweater, pulling it on and zipping it up. 

“Oh, you’re leaving?” Joe asks. 

“It’s late,” Nicky says, sitting down and pulling on his shoes. “And I have errands to run in the morning.”

“You could stay,” Joe says. “I could lend you something to wear.”

“That’s very kind of you, but no,” Nicky says firmly as he gets to his feet. 

“Okay,” Joe says, crossing to him. He reaches out and tugs his zipper up a bit more. “Thank you for coming over.”

“Of course,” Nicky says, softly. 

“I had a good time,” Joe tells him. 

Nicky gives him that strange smile again. He almost looks uncomfortable. “Did you…” Joe begins. “Did you not?”

“No,” Nicky says. “No, I did.”

“Are we… good?” Joe asks. Nicky isn’t looking at him again. 

“Yes,” Nicky says. “We’re good. Goodnight, Joe.”

“Okay,” Joe says, and closes the door behind him, confused by Nicky’s odd mood, and not sure what could have caused it. Last night they made out for a while and then Joe had fallen asleep. Snoozing on Nicky’s chest might not have been the most polite thing he could have done, but he remembers waking up once in the middle of the night while Nicky had been asleep too and he’d seemed happy enough - he’d had an arm slung around Joe’s shoulders at that point. It’s not like Joe was keeping him prisoner. 

Maybe he’d just been tired. Joe is used to being the grumpiest person in the room when he wakes up, but maybe he’s met his match. Or maybe it was something completely unrelated. He’d said they were good. 

He slips into bed and tosses and turns until his phone lights up. Nicky still sent him the getting home safe text. They must still be good. Joe sends him a thumbs up, and goes to sleep.

* * *

Lykon asks Joe if they can hang out on Sunday, which, for obvious reasons, means that Joe can’t go to the farmers market as he usually does. Joe needed to stock up on toilet paper anyway, so that’s fine. Lykon agrees to come with him to the grocery store - he complains about it but it is something that he’s used to - there were times, back when Joe was double-majoring and Lykon was starting out at the fire station, where it felt like they could _only_ hang out while one or the other was doing something like this.

With just him, Joe can tell him about the meeting. “It really sounds like it went great, Joe, I don’t understand what the issue is,” Lykon says, leaning on the shopping cart as he pushes it. He'll start wheeling around on it soon, Joe knows. 

“It did go well,” Joe says. “But it’s going to require a lot of changes and revisions, which is fine, I knew it would take a lot of work, but - I would have to quit my job. Realistically.”

“Ah,” Lykon says. “And. Your visa.”

“My visa,” Joe agrees. “Apparently there are ones for artists, but it’s no guarantee that those would come through, or when.”

“I see,” Lykon says. “That’s a lot to think about.”

“Yeah,” Joe says. 

“Well you have time, right?” Lykon asks. “It’s not a take it or leave it thing?”

“Not exactly, but she can only take on a certain number of clients at a time, so if someone walks into her office with the next great american novel I’d be out of luck.”

“Tough,” Lykon says. Then: “I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

Joe stops dead in his tracks. “What? I’m not.”

Lykon looks pointedly at Joe’s hand which is holding, to his horror, a box of Nicky’s preferred brand of latex free condoms. Joe’s face burns worse than the first time he ever held condoms. He nearly drops them. 

“You’re not allergic to latex,” Lykon says, because he is the kind of friend who knows that about him. “Hmm,” he says, squinting at the package. “Good choice.”

“N-n-no.” Joe’s stammering. He’s actually stammering. This is the worst thing that has ever happened to him in his life. “Lots of people are!”

“I know,” Lykon says, slowly, squinting at Joe, no doubt perplexed about why buying condoms in a grocery store is still causing this level of volume. “But you’re not, so…”

“I just - I was at a club, and met someone who was allergic to latex, and you know, it was kind of - oh! I should get some, you know,” Joe babbles. “To have on hand. Just to be polite. I’m not _seeing_ anyone.” 

Lykon shrugs. “Okay, I believe you. Though people who are allergic are usually very good about carrying extra protection, so maybe you liked them a little more than you realized.”

“That’s not it,” Joe hisses, dropping them into his cart anyway, and picking up a package of his usual brand pointedly, even though at this point, it seems unnecessary. 

* * *

_That’s not it,_ Joe thinks, staring at the package in his bathroom when Lykon is gone. It just does seem rude, not to have some on hand - Nicky can’t use Joe’s condoms, after all. And, there was that one time when Joe had fucked up opening the wrapper so badly that they couldn’t use the condom, and it had been lucky that they were at Nicky’s place, and he could just pull out another one. Though he probably does carry extras around, now that Joe thinks about it. 

But it’s still just the polite thing to do, it has nothing to do with Joe _liking_ him. Okay, so Joe does like Nicky better than he _expected_ \- his impression when he and Lykon were dating was that he was very boring, and he mostly is, but he does have a very dry sense of humor, and he’s a decent conversationalist, all things considered, and he’s thoughtful, and nice, and the farmers market is better when he’s there to walk around with, and Joe’s found himself thinking every once in a while that it was a shame that he and Lykon had ended things so badly, because he probably would have fit nicely into their group otherwise. And on Friday they had just hung out but it had still been a good night. 

Joe forces himself to stop thinking about it. “It’s not like that,” he says to the condoms.

A week later Nicky texts him to ask if Joe could help him try to capture Hiss. It’s a little out of their usual wheelhouse but Joe agrees, and there’s no sign of Nicky’s odd mood when they meet up outside of his building. Once they corral the cat into the carrier (with some minor scratches) they bring it to the vet. Nicky keeps stopping to coo at Hiss whenever the cat lives up to its name, seeming a little too invested in the little demon’s comfort, shoving treats through the gaps. Afterwards they go back to Nicky’s place. 

This has all been terrifyingly domestic, so when Nicky turns to him and opens his mouth to say something, Joe jumps in, quickly - “Can I fuck you up against the wall?”

Nicky closes his mouth. He smiles that strange smile _again,_ and he hesitates. But then his eyes clear, and his smile turns sly, and he says, “I don’t know. Can you?”

Joe grins. 

Prep against a wall turns out to be more difficult than Joe thought. They both get naked, and get the lube and a condom, and have nowhere to put them. Joe ends up pulling his jacket back on so that he has a pocket, and Nicky breaks into peals of laughter. “I’m sorry,” he gasps. Joe pretends that it’s from the two fingers he has sunk into him. “You just look ridiculous.”

“I could fuck you with this on,” Joe warns. “If you’re not careful.”

“Mmm,” Nicky moans, digging his fingers into Joe’s shoulder when he adds a third, and hitching his left leg higher up around Joe’s waist. “Did I say ridiculous? I meant. I meant -”

“What?” Joe asks. 

“I meant - silly. Silly.”

“Not really much better,” Joe says, pressing deeper. 

“Ah, Joe, take that - take that ridiculous thing off -” Nicky moans. 

“You ready?” Joe asks. 

Nicky nods. Joe shrugs out of the jacket once he puts on the condom, and slides his hands under Nicky’s thighs to pick him up. Nicky jumps to help, clamping his thighs around Joe’s waist, and for some reason the way that he does it seems sweet. Joe feels his throat close up. “Tell me if you get uncomfortable?” he asks. Nicky nods.

Nicky seems kind of dazed as Joe sinks into him, clutching at Joe’s shoulders with his mouth hanging open, like he can’t believe this is actually happening. Joe pulls out the slightest bit before shifting back in carefully, and Nicky throws back his head and moans. “Is it good?” Joe asks. 

“Dio,” Nicky gasps. “Si, si.”

Joe blinks. He usually thrills when Nicky forgoes english, but he feels oddly disappointed to hear it now. He thrusts up into him again, and Nicky whines and clenches down around him in a way that feels almost criminal, but there’s still something _off_. When Nicky gasps something else out in Italian Joe realizes what the problem is.

Joe doesn’t just want great, casual sex anymore. He wants his name in Nicky’s mouth, not words that he can’t understand. Nicky’s holding on to Joe’s shoulders but he wants his hands in his hair, on his cheek - he wants Nicky to look at him, he wants Nicky to kiss him - they don’t, when they’re having sex. He wants Nicky to hold his hand. 

Last Friday was a taste of what it would be like to date Nicky for real. To have him over just to spend time with him, to listen to him talk about his day. To drift off to sleep together. Joe wants that more than he wants to fuck him.

“Joe?” Nicky asks, smoothing a thumb over Joe’s frown. “Joe, what’s wrong?”

His name in Nicky’s mouth and his hands on his face and the concern in his voice makes Joe shiver. Fuck. He _really_ likes him. 

“Joe? Are you alright?”

“Can we - can I have a raincheck on this?” Joe asks, because he can’t do this while he’s having this realization. “I’m sorry.”

“Of course,” Nicky says immediately. “Let’s just - put me down, and we’ll cool off a bit.”

“Okay,” Joe says, feeling like absolute shit as he pulls out. “Thanks, I’m - I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Nicky says. He reaches out for Joe’s face and rethinks it at the last second, pulling his hand back, and Joe’s stomach clenches. He bends down and shoves Joe’s clothes into his hands. “Go clean up in the bathroom and I’ll wait for you out here,” he directs, with impersonal fingers at his elbow.

Cleaning up in the bathroom does not make Joe feel better. He splashes water on his face, and then stares at himself in the mirror, wondering what the fuck he’s supposed to do now. 

It’s hard to think of a worse time to be having this realization. Joe might not be here soon, if he quits his job. And even if he doesn’t end up leaving, there’s no guarantee that Nicky would be interested in him romantically - and even if he would be, Joe would have to talk to Lykon about it: he can’t just start - this is a mess. 

And Joe’s probably been in here for too long. 

When he gets out he finds Nicky clothed on the couch, wringing the blanket on his lap in his hands. “Did I do something wrong?” Nicky asks.

“No, no,” Joe hurries to say. “No, that was all me.”

“Okay,” Nicky says, managing a small smile. He looks down at the blanket. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“I... don’t know,” Joe says. 

Nicky nods. “Maybe we could walk around the park? Get some fresh air, and a change of scenery? And then maybe you would feel like talking, or maybe you wouldn’t. I just…” He pauses, and visibly collects his thoughts. “I would feel better, if we were able to talk through it. Or at least, if you weren’t so unsettled.”

Joe should really say no - he should assure Nicky that nothing is wrong, that he just needs some space, and time, and he should go home and think things through. But Nicky is looking up at him hopefully, and so what Joe says is, “Yeah, okay.”

There’s snow on the ground - the walk to the park is pretty clear, but once they get under the shade of the trees they have to pick their way carefully around the icy patches. The slow pace and the cold air helps. By the time they get to a bench by the side of the lake, Joe feels less jumpy. 

“I like this spot,” Nicky tells him quietly, brushing a few stray snow patches off of the bench. Joe can see why. From here they can see people out on the ice, wobbling around on their skates, but it’s not on the main path, so it’s peaceful. 

They sit for a while as Joe contemplates what to say. Nicky doesn’t fidget, or pull out his phone, just keeps his hands in his pockets and looks out at the lake. 

“I met with Quỳnh’s literary agent last week,” Joe says eventually, because it’s at least part of the problem. “She is interested in representing me, to try to get Red Waters in al-Quds picked up by a publisher.”

Nicky turns toward him. “That’s wonderful,” he says. 

“Well,” Joe says. “I would have to quit my job, and I’m here on a work visa, so… it’s complicated.”

“Oh,” Nicky says, quietly. He looks - disappointed? Maybe? Though that could be Joe’s imagination. 

Joe suppresses a shiver, and Nicky frowns and takes off his hat. “Here,” he says, handing it over. 

“I’m fine,” Joe says.

“I have a hood, and you don’t.” Nicky pulls up his hood, pointedly, and tugs the hat down over Joe’s ears. Joe lets him, feeling warmth rise in his cheeks.

“Thank you.” 

They go back to staring out at the lake, Joe wants to ask what Nicky thinks he should do but that wouldn’t be fair to either of them. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he says instead. “I’ve had a lot on my mind, and it hit me all of a sudden.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Nicky says, and then ducks his head. “Well, alright,” he adds, smiling. “I was a bit disappointed that we weren’t able to finish what we started. But I would much rather we both enjoy ourselves.”

“I always enjoy myself, with you,” Joe says.

Nicky blinks a few times, and Joe looks away quickly. It had come out too honest, too tender - not their usual matter of fact tone for discussing things like this. “Can we head back?” Joe asks. “Not to finish what we started - but the sun’s going down soon.”

“Of course,” Nicky says, standing up. 

Heading back together is not the best idea that Joe has ever had, because he could have suggested that they just split up, and instead he’s having to think about the fact that he didn’t leave anything up at Nicky’s place and if they head back together without the expectation of sex it’s straying so close to what Joe secretly wants. 

He should say something - but he feels like he needs to talk to Lykon first. They haven’t made any hard rules about not dating each other’s exes, but it’s still not something that Joe feels good about diving into. Not to mention the fact that they had a bad breakup.

He’s so caught up wondering what he’s going to say and how much shit Lykon is going to give him, and trying not to eye Nicky's hand swinging between them too obviously, that he walks straight over a patch of black ice - he starts slipping and sliding, and Nicky reaches out to steady him, and between one moment and the next Joe’s flat on his back. “Ow,” says, staring up at the sky. 

Next to him, Nicky groans.

“I am so sorry,” Joe says, getting to his feet and stepping safely into the snow instead of the slick pavement. “Are you okay?”

Nicky hisses as he takes Joe’s hand and allows Joe to help him to his feet. “Ah - I came down on my hip. Just a bruise, I think.”

By the time they get back into Nicky’s apartment, Nicky is limping a little, and actually leaning on Joe. “Are you sure it’s just a bruise?” Joe asks, once they’re inside. 

“Let me see,” Nicky says, so Joe helps him into the bathroom and helps Nicky pull off his shirt. Joe whistles - there’s a nasty, purple streak up Nicky’s side. Nicky watches in the mirror as he feels along it, wincing as he goes. “I think it’s okay.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” Nicky says. “Now you.”

“Now me what?” Joe asks. 

Nicky turns to him. “Where did you land? Did you hit your head?” He takes Joe’s head in his hands and looks in his eyes, tilting his head this way and that and humming consideringly. 

“No,” Joe says, breathlessly.

“Are you sure?” Nicky asks, all business. He feels gently along the back of Joe’s skull. 

“I’m sure, Nicky,” Joe murmurs. “You kept me from falling too hard.”

Like before, it comes out too tender, too adoring, too full of wonder that this man has a bruise the approximate size and shape of California on his hip, that he’s balancing all of his weight on one leg - and he’s still taking the time to make sure that Joe is alright. And this time Nicky definitely notices. He freezes, hands still in Joe’s hair. Joe, for his part, tries to get his face back to neutral from wherever it currently is. But he’s never been particularly good at hiding his feelings, and Nicky swallows hard at whatever he sees there. 

“You -” Nicky says. He closes his eyes, and leans back against the counter, taking his hands away from Joe. “You don’t have a concussion.”

“Nicky,” Joe says. 

“I should,” Nicky begins. “I should - there’s -”

“Yeah, no problem,” Joe says, saving himself from having to hear whatever excuse Nicky dreams up. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

He flees the bathroom and is halfway to the door, thankful that he didn’t take off his shoes, when Nicky calls out: “Wait!”

When Joe turns around, Nicky is hobbling into his kitchen. “Joe. Next week. Do you want to come over?” Nicky asks, very quickly.

“Yes!” Joe says, and has to dial back the enthusiasm. “Just text me.”

“No,” Nicky says, breathlessly. “I meant - I would cook. And you would come over?” He glances towards his whiteboard calendar before turning back to Joe - Joe has looked at it before, but it’s marked out in so many different colors that it’s incomprehensible, and he’s never asked Nicky to explain it. They just don’t make plans, so it’s never been an issue. “Wednesday? At six?”

Joe’s heart leaps into his throat. “I’d like that,” he says, too quickly. 

Nicky pulls out a new color of marker and makes a little line on Wednesday. “Okay,” he says, and laughs, quick and high, like he can’t believe what he’s just done. He turns back to Joe, eyes shining. “Mushroom risotto?” he asks.

Joe’s heart soars. “That sounds great,” he says. “Yes.”

* * *

Joe invites all his friends over that weekend, with the idea of looping them all in on the job versus novel situation as a group instead of just individually. (And he plans to talk to Lykon about the Nicky situation. He doesn’t think that Lykon would mind, and there is a part of Joe that is insisting very loudly that even if he does Joe wouldn’t care. But that is a problem that will hopefully live only in his imagination.)

What he did not anticipate is that his little box of an apartment can’t barely fit all of his friends, and it’s shockingly well insulated. It ends up way too hot with everyone crammed in there. Joe shuts off the heat and opens the windows, but the damage is already done. They head out to walk around the park to let it cool off for a few minutes.

They’re right in the center of the park, listening to Nile talk about her latest defendant, when Lykon suddenly says, “huh.”

Joe looks up. Nicky is standing on the path, coming the opposite direction, looking about as horrified as Joe feels. 

“Hang on a second,” Lykon says, jogging up ahead. 

“Ugh,” Booker says. “Didn’t think we’d have to see this asshole again.” He crosses his arms. Andy, beside him, does the same. 

“Who’s that?” Quỳnh asks, squinting across the distance.

“Lykon’s ex-boyfriend,” Andy says, glaring. “He was kind of shitty and possessive.”

“He just didn’t like being in an open relationship,” Joe mutters. He just can’t help it, with the way that Nicky has stuffed his hands in his pockets, and his gaze keeps darting between Lykon and the rest of the group. He’s hunching his shoulders. He looks miserable.

“An open relationship that he agreed to,” Andy counters. 

“That’s hard to say no to and you know it,” Joe says, more vehemently than he means to. 

That does get Andy to stop glaring at Nicky, because she starts glaring at Joe. “What is your problem?” she asks. 

“Lykon,” Booker calls. “Come on, stop wasting your time with that guy.”

They’re not standing that far away, so Joe can see Lykon wince and turn to apologize to Nicky, shrugging and probably saying something along the lines of, well they’re my friends, so what can you do? Nicky stares at him, and turns and stares at Joe, and spins around on his heel and starts cutting across grass, now turned to a muddy slush because of the snow. 

“You don’t have to be such assholes,” Joe says.

Quỳnh snaps her fingers. “Oh! Joe, is that who I met at the signing? I thought I recognized him.”

“He came to your signing?” Nile asks. “Stalker, much?”

“Stop!” Joe says. 

Everyone goes quiet. Maybe Joe said that too loud. 

“Will someone _please_ tell me what is happening?” Quỳnh asks. 

“I -” Joe begins, but he can’t think, not while watching Nicky cut a lonely figure through the park. “Will you just give me a minute, please?” he calls, as he steps out onto the mud to follow him. 

Nicky is walking pretty fast, so Joe starts jogging to catch up to him. “Nicky!” he calls. “Nicky, wait.”

Nicky startles at the sound of his voice, slipping in the mud as he turns around, though thankfully, he doesn't fall down. He looks really, really, upset, red-rimmed eyes, kind of like he did when Joe found him in the bar. “Fuck,” he hisses, and Joe takes a step back. It might be the first time he’s ever heard him curse. 

“Are you okay?” Joe asks. 

“I fucked up, I fucked everything up,” Nicky says, wiping his eyes. “Why did I have to be - so selfish and stupid?”

“What are you talking about?” Joe asks.

“They all hate me,” Nicky says miserably.

“Look, don’t take it personally,” Joe says. “Lykon’s friends have to glare at you, it’s basically -”

“I don’t care about Lykon’s friends!” Nicky shouts. 

Joe shuts his mouth, because that is frankly, a lot ruder than he was expecting.

Nicky groans. “I meant - they’re _your_ friends. And they hate me.”

Oh. _Oh._ Joe turns around and squints at his friends, clustered together on the path, equally split between menacing hands on hips and menacing folded arms. Well, Lykon isn’t doing that - he’s bent over double, laughing. He’s put together the condom incident.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Nicky says. “I fucked it up before it even began. I’m sorry, Joe.”

Joe turns back to him. “I like you too much to accept that,” he says.

Nicky looks shocked. 

“Look,” Joe says. “I know it’s weird. I know. But you don’t get to break up with me before you even tell me you like me.”

“Did I not?” Nicky asks faintly. 

“No,” Joe says. “I mean, I assume. Because of the dinner.”

“Yes,” Nicky says. “I was going to tell you then.”

“You are still going to tell me,” Joe corrects. 

“But,” Nicky hesitates. “Won’t things be too awkward? With your friends?”

Joe can’t help it - he laughs. “Nicky, we’ve always been awkward, and it doesn’t seem to matter. The first time we spent any length of time together you threw up on my shoes. We’re here anyway. I think that’s worth something.”

“I suppose,” Nicky says. “But I don’t feel awkward with you. Not even - not even when it seems like I should.”

“Me neither,” Joe says. “So. Wednesday?”

“Wednesday,” Nicky confirms, and presses a quick kiss to Joe’s cheek - when he steps back, his face is flaming, and he turns and hurries away. Joe, for his part, stands there holding his cheek and grinning like a fool for a few moments before trudging back towards his friends. 

“What,” Quỳnh says, as he approaches. “On earth. Is going on.”

“I’m not talking about this right now,” Joe says. 

“Are you kidding me,” Nile mutters. Booker is shaking his head in disbelief, and Andy is glaring at everyone in turn, though Joe doesn’t worry about that much - really, it’s her default setting. 

Lykon, meanwhile, is wiping his eyes, still chuckling. “Joe,” he says. “You are really too much.”

* * *

Wednesday, as luck would have it, starts on a weird note. Nicky steps forward to take his coat at the same time that Joe bends down to take off his shoes, and Joe ends up scraping his face down the entire length of Nicky’s arm. 

“Oh,” Nicky says, patting the back of Joe’s head with his hand. “Oh, no.”

Joe, still bent over with his hands on his laces, starts giggling. “This is what I’m talking about,” he says.

Nicky chuckles above him, and places his hand on Joe’s shoulder. “I see what you mean.”

Joe finishes pulling off his shoes and stands up. “Hey,” he says, feeling dizzy from the sudden rush of blood to his head, and the way that Nicky’s face is right there. 

“Hi,” Nicky says. He seems to steel himself, and pulls Joe down for a brief kiss. “Thank you for coming,” he says softly. 

“Of course,” Joe says. Nicky takes him by the hand and leads him to the kitchen. The risotto is cooling on the counter. The lights are turned down low and there’s a candle flickering on Nicky’s kitchen table. Joe’s throat closes up. “Nicky…”

“Wait,” Nicky says, squeezing his hand. “I want to do this - I want to do this right.”

“Okay,” Joe says, and lets Nicky pull his chair out for him, and scoop out a portion of risotto onto his plate. 

Nicky sits down, and Joe takes a bite. “This tastes great,” Joe says. He’s so keyed up that it could be rat poison and he wouldn’t be able to taste the difference. 

“I’ve never been more comfortable with another person,” Nicky blurts, his face beet red. He hasn’t even touched his own food. “And I laugh so much with you. Seeing you is the best part of my week.”

“I want to learn everything about you,” Joe says.

Nicky shoves back his chair and stumbles around the table, cradles Joe’s face in his strong, gentle hands, and bends down to kiss him. It’s deep, and wonderful, and so clearly not a precursor to anything. Just something to do because Nicky wants to be close, and Joe wants to be close - they’re on the same page, and it’s the best feeling in the world. Joe shoves his own chair back and wraps his arms around Nicky’s waist, pulling him closer. Nicky drops himself sideways in his lap to kiss him better for a few glorious seconds before the chair lets loose an alarming creak and wobbles beneath them. 

“Oh fuck,” Joe says, scrambling to get to his feet. 

Nicky pulls him up, and together they stare at the chair for a few moments before dissolving into giggles. “Sofa?” Nicky asks. “And tell me about your week so far?”

“Yeah,” Joe says, kissing him one more time before picking up his plate. “Yeah.”

* * *

“So, he flaked out again?” Andy snipes at him aggressively. It’s the fourth of July, at Booker’s house. Lykon is manning the grill this year, so Joe is enjoying a cool drink in the shade.

“Nicky doesn’t flake out,” Joe says, taking another long sip of his lemonade. “He gets pulled into working overtime, and falls asleep on his feet.”

Andy scoffs and crosses her arms. “And how exactly is that different from flaking out?” 

Joe rolls his eyes. It’s been hardest for her to shake the righteous indignation on Lykon’s behalf, and the belief that Nicky couldn’t be good for Joe if he wasn’t good for Lykon, but she’s starting to come around. It’s mostly the heat that’s making her cranky now, he knows - that and the fact that Quỳnh has met Nicky a few times over the past couple of months, but he has yet to make an appearance at one of their gatherings. “He’s coming.”

Andy scoffs again. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“See what?” Nicky says from behind them.

They both whirl around. Nicky must have let himself in through the fence - there’s a very faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes and the curl of his lip. 

Joe beams at him. Nicky is nervous about this, he knows - but despite how sweet and gentle he is he’s far from soft. He has a spine of steel when he wants one, Joe’s discovered. That he’s chosen to have one now, for Joe, is humbling. 

“Hello Andy,” Nicky says. “Nice to see you again.”

“Nicky,” Andy says, and leaves it at that. She seems grudgingly impressed.

“I’m going to say hello to everyone and get myself a drink.” Nicky says. “Joe, do you want anything?”

“I’m good,” Joe says. 

“Andy?” Nicky asks. 

“No,” she says. “No.”

They watch him dig through the cooler and pick out a drink and then gamely head off to talk to the others. He and Lykon have cleared the air, and he and Quỳnh are already friendly, so he chats with each of them for a few minutes before saying a few words to Nile and Booker. 

He takes a seat next to Joe and reaches for his hand - his grip is tighter than it is when he’s relaxed, so Joe scooches his chair closer so he can bump their knees together. Nicky sighs gratefully, and rubs his thumb over Joe’s knuckles. Andy tries to glare at them but loses the will after a few minutes. Maybe because of the heat, but Joe is going to hope it’s because of what she sees. 

“Any word on Red Waters?” Andy asks. 

“Not yet,” Joe says. “Emily says that isn’t unusual.”

“It will happen,” Nicky says, steady and sure, squeezing Joe’s hand. “Joe is a singular talent.”

Sometimes he says the sweetest things. It’s too hot for this - their hands are already starting to feel damp - but Joe leans across their armrests to kiss him anyway. “Thank you,” Joe whispers, and means it for everything. For coming here and braving his gauntlet of friends a second time under weirder circumstances, for making cup after cup of coffee while Joe was outlining revisions, for massaging his hand when it cramped. For renting a car three weeks ago and driving two hours to try to convince Joe to pet an alpaca, and for not being too annoyed when Joe still refused. 

(Joe’s phone background is now a picture of Nicky petting an alpaca while shooting a disgruntled look back over his shoulder - it had still been a good day.)

“Thank _you_ ,” Nicky says back, and Joe knows that he means it for everything too. He kisses Nicky one more time and leans back in his chair. It really is too hot for this, and besides - there’s no rush.

|   
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[Listen On Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0kP10IiVXlFV2RbqTFw6zZ?si=26ea97a8b1564af8)

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Head on over to chapter four for a masterpost of the art, in it's full glory!
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](https://deanniker-wastingtime.tumblr.com/) losing control of my life, if that's something you're into.


	4. ART!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Full size art because it deserves it!

Moodboard:

Fanmix Front Cover:

Fanmix:

Fanmix Back Cover:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the art so much! Give [rhubarbdreams](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com/) some love if you have not already!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](https://deanniker-wastingtime.tumblr.com/) losing control of my life, if that's something you're into.


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